


Surrender (Say My Name)

by bladespark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Electricity, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladespark/pseuds/bladespark
Summary: Loki wanted to conquer, to rule, to see his brother kneel at his feet. But a secret, traitor thought at the back of his mind had always whispered about how good it would be to kneel instead, to be used, to serve.  Now, with their ancient animosity at least partly laid to rest, Loki has a chance to admit his secret desire, and to finally surrender to it...and to his brother.





	Surrender (Say My Name)

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't pick which title I liked better, so I used both. It's at least tangential to the "hug scene" if not quite a direct take on it.
> 
> Ohgods, I'm writing MCU fic, what am I doing?

There came a moment, after the conflict, after all was said and done. Such moments always come. Sometimes they herald peace, and sometimes they are only the eye of the storm. I knew not which this was. But there came a moment, when he and I were alone together.

It was in his room. Of course it was. I could never be allowed to face him on my own ground, on my own terms. Fate was never so kind. Always I had to live in his world, in his Asgard, wherever that may be. My attempts to make it my own, to find my own path had always failed.

No, I lie to myself, and I've sworn to never lie to myself. To others, yes, to myself, no. I had not been merely attempting to find my own path. I had been attempting to prove myself his better, to beat him, to win, to conquer. To see him keeling at my feet. _Oh, to kneel at his feet..._ I bared my teeth as that traitor thought wormed its way into my mind. _No._ I would not surrender to him. Not even now.

"Brother." He turned to me, his smile warm, and I wanted to lean into it and recoil from it at once.

"I have a name, you know," I said sharply, sarcastically.

"Loki," he said, just as warmly, and his smile didn't waver. Something in me wanted to melt at that warmth. 

I shored myself up against that melting. "Yes?"

"Loki, brother," he repeated, his words battering at my resolve. Why was my name on his lips so sweet? "Are you well? Are you happy now?"

"What is happiness?" I said, and I tried to say it with wit, but it somehow came out with bitterness instead. I turned away from him, as if I were careless of his one-eyed gaze, and looked out the window, at the blackness beyond. "I thought power was happiness. I had both for a time, and what did it come to? Pathetic little morality plays," I said, trying to make a joke of it, to mock myself as I so often had. "My happiness came to the absurdity of writing stories about my death, putting words of praise for myself in your mouth, words I knew I could never hear from you in truth." I stopped then. I had said far, far too much, somehow. I tried to brazen through, to continue to treat it as a jape. "You know I was almost relieved when you turned up and ended my little reign?"

"Loki..." He stepped up behind me, standing close, not quite touching. The last time he'd touched me he'd been betraying me, the honest and noble brother, somehow turning the tables on the trickster. Yet despite that, as I looked at his reflection, standing there so very close behind mine, I wanted him to touch me.

Then he did, his hand on my shoulder. I tried to not shiver at the touch, didn't quite succeed. Hells below, I wanted him to do so much more than that.

_No._

I tried to once more drive such thoughts from my mind. It had been easier when I'd been scheming against him, always looking for an angle, always wanting a way to win. Yet now he had come into his full power, and what was I against that? I remembered that moment, when I'd seen the lightning strike as he claimed his birthright. I had felt emotional chaos tearing me back and forth, for I'd known that we were saved, that Hela would be defeated, that I would not die defending Asgard. Yet I'd also known that the throne would never be mine. I had usurped it through illusion for a brief moment, it would be his in truth for centuries to come, and I would serve at his side, or go elsewhere to find my power.

I still hadn't quite decided which of those paths I wanted. I knew he would never, _should_ never trust me again. It would probably be wiser to leave than to stay and watch him guard against me. Yet everything in me yearned towards him, yearned to stay, yearned to somehow earn his trust. My own nature was tearing me apart and I didn't know what to do.

"I have words of praise for you, you know. I may jest, and I may mock, and I will never, ever entirely trust you. But you are of worth. You have fought at my side. You came to Asgard's defense when you could have fled. And even in your betrayals there have been...admirable qualities. You have always been the clever one, and I the slow-witted."

_Oh hells, demons, and the icy abyss._ A shudder that I knew he could feel went through me. "You've been clever enough of late," I said, and wanted to curse again as it came out bitter once more.

"At times." He stepped closer, and I could feel him against my back, a palpable warmth even through the heavy layers of armor that separated us. He was so close I could feel his breath against my ear, and I shivered again. I almost wanted to shove him back, to forcefully demand he never touch me again, for the closer he grew, the more those thoughts rose up in my mind.

"At other times, though, I have failed to notice what is right before me," he added, his voice low, just in my ear. I could imagine him moving forward that final inch, biting my ear, kissing the vulnerable spot just below and behind it... _No!_ I held perfectly still, denying the urge to lean back against him.

His hand was still on my shoulder, and the other came to rest on my waist. My mind finally managed to process what he'd just said, and the tone he'd said it in.

"Brother..." I wasn't sure if I was protesting the impossibility that seemed to be his intent or not.

"I have a name too," he said, and his other hand joined the first on my waist, his fingers sliding forward, so that his arms were around me. I felt my heart pounding. What was he doing? Was this some game, some trick? Had he found out somehow about my terrible, hidden desires, and was using them to manipulate me? But to what end? He held all power over me already, what more could he gain?

I swallowed, feeling that if I spoke too swiftly my voice would shake. "I know," I said, and was pleased that my tone was as lightly mocking as I'd intended.

He chuckled, his voice deep and warm, and his arms pulled me back more firmly against him. His breath was still warm against my ear, and then I felt the touch of his lips, his teeth, just as I'd imagined it. I drew in a sharp gasp, another shudder going through me.

He chuckled again, and nipped my ear once more, harder. I knew I should pull away, act shocked, demand to know what he was doing, but my body betrayed me just as I'd betrayed so many others over the years, and I let out a soft, helpless moan instead, melding myself back into his embrace.

He kissed the side of my neck, his arms sliding fully around me as he did. "Loki," he said softly, gently.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I finally stammered. My poise was entirely gone, my facade ruined.

"I believe I owe you a hug," he responded, and kissed my neck again, his arms holding me tight. The feel of his lips was more electric than his own lightning. 

"This is _not_ just a hug." The response came to mind and came out my lips in the same moment, and I almost cursed myself for saying something that might make him stop. I wanted him to never stop. 

"No, it's not," he said amiably, but he didn't stop. He kissed all the way down my neck, and said, between kisses, "I am glad that I was right about what I've seen from you now that I have eyes—eye—to see it." He reached the spot just at the base of my neck, and nipped there. I let out a whimper of desire and denial both. I could find no words. I could not admit he was right. I _would not_ beg for what I wanted of him, though part of me desperately wished to do so. All I could do was make absurd, helpless noises of pleasure as he held me, kissed me, nipped me.

His arms left off holding me, his hands sliding up my body, and next thing I knew he had undone my cape and let it fall, his fingers then seeking the fastenings of my armor beneath it. Without truly meaning to, I nevertheless found myself helping him, wiggling out of the protective garment. He tugged at his own, and I helped him shed it as well, both of us awkward as we removed the barriers that had always stood between us and harm. That had always stood between us.

His arms went around me again, pulling me tight, his skin a furnace heat against my cooler body. Then his mouth was on mine as he kissed me fiercely, hungrily. I kissed back, my own arms going around him too, my fingernails dragging down his back as heated passion filled me. I wanted this, wanted him, more than I would have thought possible, even in my fantasies.

I felt a further heat, a hardness, pressing against me. His cock, against where the tightening in my groin was evidence of my own erection. I heard him groan into the kiss, knew he wanted me as I wanted him, and something in me simply broke. I could resist that traitor voice, that forbidden, terrible desire, no longer. I broke from the kiss with my mind absolutely on fire with need and I did it, I did the thing I'd fought against all my life, the thing that had whispered in the back of my mind for countless years.

I went to my knees in front of Thor, my brother.

He looked down at me, his singe eye wide, vaguely puzzled. "Loki?"

I looked up, my gaze meeting his, and I smiled as I surrendered to him at last. I lowered my head, my hand cupping his cock, and I lapped up the length of it. I heard him gasp, and I thrilled to hear it. I was pleasing him, as I'd always dreamed. I worshiped his cock, licking over every inch of it, tasting it, tasting the musky, salt-sweet flavor of his skin, tasting the further salt in the pre that leaked from his tip, and savoring everything about it.

He groaned again when I took the head of it into my mouth and began to go down. I felt his hand settle on the back of my head, his fingers twisting through my hair, and I let out a soft, muffled moan of my own. This was just as I'd always pictured it. His cock filled my mouth so wonderfully, slid over my tongue, pressed at the back of my throat, and I took it deeper still, swallowing around it as it cut off my breath, making me nearly gag. I didn't care, the sound of pleasure he let out was more than worth the discomfort. I felt his fingers twitch in my hair, and when I pulled back, my lips caressing the length of him, he immediately pushed on the back of my head.

I responded willingly, eagerly, to that pressure, sinking back down on his cock, settling into a rhythm, bobbing back and forth on it. I could hear him panting and groaning, and his grip on my hair was growing tight enough to hurt, and that too was just as I'd always imagined it, just as I'd always wanted it. Why had I resisted this for so long?

After I'd serviced him for a long, wonderful moment, though, he tugged back on my hair firmly, pulling me from his cock, and then to my feet. He kissed me again, hard, almost roughly. I thrilled at the forcefulness of it.

When he broke again from the kiss he took my hand and pulled me with him to the bed, which he climbed into and towed me after. Next thing I knew I was pinned beneath him as he pressed another heady, passionate kiss on me. I dug my nails into his shoulders, kissing back, feeling once again on fire with the weight and warmth of him atop me.

He sat back, then, straddling me, and his hands caressed down my chest. I felt a tingling crackle of energy and I gasped. He chuckled softly, and ran his thumb over my nipple, lightning tracing after it, making me cry out at the pain—and pleasure entwined with it—of electricity against such a sensitive spot.

His fingers traced everywhere, slowly following every line of my body, and sparks followed behind them, waking my every nerve, making me arch and moan and cry out again and again as he found new places to assault with his power.

My fantasies had not included this!

But it was good, so, so good. He was using the gift that had placed him forever beyond me to tease and torment me, and as his fingers finally traced down the flat of my stomach and ran lightly up my aching member, I gasped out, "Ah! Thor!"

The soft sigh he let out was of pure satisfaction. Then that chuckle again, as he looked down at me, and his hands caught my wrists, pinning them down to the bed by my sides. I shivered, knowing his strength to be greater than my own. He smiled, his grip not loosening, but now it was he who bent his head, his tongue drawing up my cock, warmth and wetness where there had been heat and static-edged pain an instant before. I moaned, helplessly. Hells below, it felt so _good_.

He hummed softly and took my cock into his mouth. I groaned. I'd had lovers before, of course, but with my whole being alive with a lifetime of wanting him, the feel of his mouth around me was the best thing I'd ever felt. He kept my wrists captive as his mouth worked at my cock, taking it deep and then sliding back, his tongue caressing all along it as he did.

I was on edge already, finding myself fighting to hold back. Pleasure surged in me, white-hot and undeniable. Then I felt that tingle again and oh hells there was lightning on his tongue now! I cried out again, my back arching, and it was too much, the pain of it and the pleasure of it together pushing me over the edge. With a breathless, helpless cry of, "Oh, Thor!" I came hard.

My whole body shuddered with it as my cock pulsed, my seed spilling into his mouth. He went still, the lightning vanishing, but his tongue worked against me, milking me until he'd gotten every drop.

He lifted his head and swallowed, and his smile was satisfied, smug even, as he looked down at me. "Ah, brother, I've wanted to do that to you for far too long."

I turned my head away from him, somehow ashamed by what I'd wanted now that it was over. He released my wrists and shifted, moving to lie beside me. He cupped my cheek in his hand, turning my head to his, and pressed another kiss on me. This one was softer, sweeter, than the ones before, though it carried a hint of the bitter-salt of my own seed in it. I kissed back, feeling torn again. I had surrendered to him so utterly, and it had been so good, yet I almost wished I could take it all back. Everything would change now. What would I do, come the morrow, when I had to stand beside where he sat on his improvised throne, with the memory of how his tongue had felt, how his lightning had been pain and pleasure together for me?

But his kiss grew heated as it lingered, and such thoughts were pushed aside by other thoughts. I felt the hardness of his cock again, pressing against my thigh were he lay beside me, and realized that this wasn't over. He'd gotten my pleasure from me, but he hadn't achieved his own.

He rose from me when the kiss was done, and I lay, looking at him as he dug around in his drawers. I knew what he must be getting, and conflict washed through me as I lay waiting. I could tell him no, call this a mistake, try to go back to the way things had been. Or I could surrender again. The first seemed so much the better choice. I'd exposed too much of myself, but I could walk at least some of it back, try to reassemble at least some of my dignity. Yet the words of refusal wouldn't come to my lips.

Still, when he returned to the bed with the bottle of lube in his hand, I bared my teeth at him and put my hands on his chest as if to push him away. The conflict within me become conflict without, as it so often had.

He paused for a long moment, looking down at me. "It's like that, is it?" he said, and there was a hint of lightning crackling in his single eye as he did.

I shivered, but I met his gaze with a snarl for a long moment, then rolled away from him. He pounced on me, pinning me to the bed, and lightning sparked in the hands that held my shoulders down. I cried out, getting my hands under me, moving to roll him off of me. He laughed in my ear, that same damnable chuckle of amusement, and ground his hips against my backside, letting me feel his erection, and just like that my desire to fight ran out of me like water from a broken jar.

I was broken, wasn't I? To want the things I wanted, and from my own brother, even if adopted... But he bit the back of my neck then and my thoughts fled before a wave of hopeless desire. I moaned and lay still beneath him. He bit me again, harder, then harder still, until I whimpered at the pain of it. Apparently that was enough of a capitulation for him, for his weight came off of me, and I heard the pop of a cork as he opened the bottle, and then felt his fingers, slicked now with lube, probing at me.

I shuddered as they slipped within me. I could still fight, _should_ still fight, but my traitorous body still wanted him. _I_ still wanted him. To have him within me, to have that connection, that ultimate intimacy... I ached with wanting it.

He wanted it too, it seemed, for no sooner had he spread the lube in me than he was on me, his cock probing at me, his body braced above mine. I moaned again, trembling beneath him as he lined himself up. I wanted to beg for him to please enter me, please take me. I clenched my teeth on the humiliating pleading, but couldn't stop the needy whimper that escaped me.

"Ah yes, Loki," he breathed, and began to push into me. My own cry was wordless as he filled me, stretched me out, sank into me to the hilt.

He rested there, breathing hotly in my ear. He nipped it, and I gasped. All my nerves felt on fire, even more so than when he'd touched me with his lightning. The feel of him within me was every bit as good as I'd ever dreamed. Then it got even better as he pulled his hips back and thrust in, deep and hard. I cried out again, then again as he repeated the motion. Soon he was setting a rapid pace, hips bucking, driving down into me with rough, primal passion, over and over.

I panted, each stroke wringing a cry from me, my body writhing under him, my hands gripping the blankets beneath me as I arched and squirmed. His arms went around my chest, holding me tightly to him, the pace of his thrusting increasing even further. He bit my ear again, then left a flurry of rough bites along my neck and shoulder.

I whimpered and cried out with each one, pleasure and pain shocking through me again. I tensed under him, clenching hard on his cock, and he moaned, "Ah, Loki... Yes..."

Sweet heavens above, the sound of my name on his lips like _that_ was bliss. I wanted him desperately, needed him to fill me, utterly required his pleasure. I clenched harder on him and finally said, "Please. Please, Thor. Oh please, I need you..."

"Yes," he breathed in my ear, "Yes... Almost... Ah! Ah, Loki!" And with another deep, hard thrust he came.

I felt it, felt the way his body shuddered atop mine, felt the pulsing of his cock in me, the slick heat of his seed suddenly deep within. More than that, I felt electricity rushing over my skin, lightning cocooning us both as his power exploded from him along with his seed, and somehow this time there was no pain with it. We were joined as one, and I think I felt that power then as he felt it; as a tingling heat, as a thrilling energy, as a racing rush of pleasure, and I cried out in pure bliss. "Oh, Thor! Yes!"

The moment went on forever, yet was all too short. The lightning faded away as the last drops of his seed filled me, and he collapsed atop me with a long sigh, his body a warm, heavy weight. I sighed too beneath him. Shame wanted to rise in me again at the way I'd been used, at the way I'd begged for him, but he was still within me, still atop me, and the warmth of him, literally and otherwise, lingered with me, keeping shame at bay. I had gotten my fantasy at last, and it had been even better than I could have ever dreamed.

He kissed the back of my neck, and murmured, "Loki..."

The shame slipped further from my mind and I sighed again, softly, contentedly.

There was a long silence, and we simply lay together, still joined, until finally his softening cock slipped free of me. I sighed again, then, a sigh of something like regret. He echoed it, and rolled off of me. But he didn't leave, and made no move to eject me from his bed either. Instead he lay beside me, his arm over me. I turned to him, tucking my head beneath his chin, pressing close to him.

He nuzzled at me gently, and then I heard that soft chuckle of his. "So now I know what it takes to get you to say my name."

I felt my cheeks flushing, and I tucked my head down further, irrationally, as if I could hide from him against his own chest. His hand came up, stroking my hair soothingly. "Forgive me, I should not mock you for such moments. I do seem to recall saying your name a few times just now as well, after all."

I finally found an answering chuckle. "Yes, you did."

He nuzzled the top of my head again. "Loki, brother... I've always loved you, you know. Even the first time you stabbed me, I still loved you. From the first moment I began to dream of night such as this, I've dreamed of you."

I felt my breath catch, and my heart was somehow pounding again, thudding in my chest. I wanted to give some glib answer, to take the cowardly way, to step back from my surrender to him. Those words died on my tongue, though, and instead I found myself saying, softly, "Thor. I have always loved you too. I've always...envied you, maybe even hated you. But I've always, always loved you. I've wanted this for so long..."

"Yes." His arms tightened around me, his hand still stroking my hair. It was wonderful, and also terrifying, to lie here so closely, so vulnerably. "I still don't trust you, mind," he added, with another of those deep chuckles. With my head against his chest I felt it as much as heard it. "But that's alright. You can keep me on my toes."

"Oh, Thor, brother." I laughed then. Just like that he'd offered me a way to be his and still remain myself, something I had thought impossible. How could he be so wonderful? "Yes. Yes, I can do that."

"Good." He sighed again, and kissed the top of my head. "For tonight, though, I will trust you just a little. I am very tired, and very content. I would like it if you stayed the night with me, brother. Just...please don't stab me in my sleep. It would be very inconvenient, and everyone would know you'd done it."

I laughed again. "Not tonight, I promise." I meant it. He was right, now was not the time for such treachery. But more than that. I had given him my surrender, and for now at least I could do him no harm. Not after he'd claimed me so wonderfully.

So as he relaxed, his arms still around me, I let out a long sigh and relaxed as well. I heard his breathing slow, deepen, and knew he was asleep. "I don't even have a knife," I murmured to myself, half laughing at what I had come to. Then I let my own eyes flutter shut and the world slip away, and I rested all the night in my brother's arms, his at last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope people like this one. It's a tricky relationship to write well, tbh.
> 
> P.S. If you'd like to see me talk about writing, my works in progress, other creative endeavors, and my life in general, check out [my Dreamwidth blog](https://bladespark.dreamwidth.org/).)


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